We cope with stress in all different ways. Some are healthy, like binge watching reality shows about Mormon wives and their hair extensions. Some are less healthy, like running a marathon instead of going to therapy. But as long as our chosen outlet of emotion isn’t hurting anybody else, who are we to judge?
My partner would argue my outlet does hurt him. It’s not drinking or gambling or live-action medieval role-play. I’m not forcing him to look at my run times on Strava. Instead, he merely has to sit in the car and make sure I don’t get murdered while I pick up my latest Facebook Marketplace purchase.
You can correlate how much external stress I’m facing in my life to my time spent scouring mid-century furniture on DoneDeal. At my lowest I was convincing my partner to drive to a random person’s shed in Monaghan for a €50 piece of furniture that once might have been a dresser that “just needed to be sanded back”.
When things got really bad I was digitally scouring the Waterford Crystal collections of other people’s dead grannies, trying to complete my set. “I’m so sorry to hear about your granny, do you have two of the Champagne flutes in the Lismore pattern?” I would fire off, as if they would actually be used for Champagne and not Aldi sparkling wine.
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I don’t even like sparkling wine and I really love using the dishwasher so chances are they would never even make it out of the cupboard. But that’s the joy of buying second-hand stuff - there’s no need for rational thought. The stakes are too low to think about being practical. What if the President or someone equally important like, I dunno, Twink, suddenly knocked in and I couldn’t serve them sparkling wine in crystal flutes (never mind the fact that when the Australian ambassador actually did pop over for dinner, he was happy enough to eat and drink off our mismatched collection of Ikea and Dunnes finest homewares).
Now that moving countries from Ireland to Australia has robbed me of access to my beloved Adverts and DoneDeal, I now rely on Facebook Marketplace as my sole trading platform. We’re in something of a trade deficit as I’m only buying.
In my defence, I had to refurnish an entire house. Rentals in Australia don’t come with furniture, so I assumed my natural role as a hunter and gatherer. It’s only me and my sniper-like Facebook Marketplace skills in securing an as-new Ikea couch for €350 less RRP that stands between our bums and the cold, hard floor.
It can be a treacherous but mostly annoying pursuit. The problem is everyone wants to score a bargain, or make a decent amount of money selling off an item. But we can’t all be cute hoors simultaneously. There are people trying to flog “lightly used” Nars bronzers and La Roche Posay sunscreen. I don’t know about you, but when buying products that go on my face, I’d prefer if a stranger’s fingers hadn’t been in them.
[ Sizible: Making sure to get the perfect fit when clothes shopping onlineOpens in new window ]
I blame Dragons’ Den reruns for people trying to sell the free coat hangers you get at the dry cleaners for €1 each. Facebook Marketplace really needs an “Are you well?” button for these types of ads. But in fairness, buyers can be melts too. Like the time I was asked repeatedly if I would drop items I was giving away for free to the other side of Ireland, at my own expense.
I was sweaty with anticipation as I messaged a seller last week. She was offering two GHD hair tools, like new. The ones I’d been eyeing up, that retail for more than €150 each new. She was willing to part with them for €30 each. I pounced. I marvelled at my business acumen with that margin. “I am Alan f***ing Sugar,” I thought to myself as I queued for the ATM on the way to the goods exchange location.
It was only in the car as we waited in the pitch black and rainy night did I question if the prices were too good to be true. Her profile looked legit - had been up since the 2010s. But she was selling loads of GHDs. Maybe it was a trap designed exclusively to ensnare millennial women. “Are you going to get us killed?” my boyfriend asked with a tone that suggested he’d welcome this event over doing any more Facebook Marketplace pickups.
No, it turns out she just worked for the company and was doing a spring clean. Behind her lurked her bodyguard boyfriend who met the eyes of mine and gave him the weary nod of marketplace veterans who had seen too much.
